


Layers of Red

by Sweety_Mutant



Category: Layers of Fear (Video Game), Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Artist Grantaire, Blood, Devotion, Gen, Grantaire Lives, Painting, gloomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:11:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweety_Mutant/pseuds/Sweety_Mutant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Layers of Fear-Les Mis AU, where Grantaire is the mad painter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Layers of Red

**Author's Note:**

> So, again one of my depressing AUs! Yay! \^^/   
> Enjoy reading my friend!  
> * The lines in French will be translated at the end! :D

The most horrific part of it all is not even the bodies. It is all around. The bottles of wine, broken in thousands of pieces, strewn on the soaked floor.  Paintings, the same figure over and over again, the same pose. Paintings, destroyed. Writings on the walls, the furniture. In black, in red, harsh words written by an artist, hatred directed at himself. On the easel, a bigger canvas. The same pose, the same figure. Painted with fury and vibrant with life.

_Trop beau._

The figure is a young man. Beautiful, a terrible aura surrounds him. His hair shines like fire reflected by gold, he shines as a whole, like a blinding sun on a summer evening. The same fire burn in his eyes, so alive and tragic. His eyes put his skin on fire, a dichotomy between alabaster, blueish like the afterlife and a passionate red. Blue fire is the hottest.

The young man must be a god. No mortal could be this radiant, so beautiful because he is dead. Whom the gods love die young. The gods must die young, in order to live eternally.

_Jamais assez, Jamais là, incapable._

The painting at the centre is horror. It sucks the light out of the entire room, lights it by negating every other source of life. It should have been covered up. Only then, a dirty sheet draped over it, can the rest be seen.

Two bodies. Blind, disfigured, dead. Torn limbs, grey skin, no more faces.

In the centre of the room, there is a burned up ghost. His hair is a brownish red, dyed in blood. His skin is burned, red and grey and red again where vivid wounds surface.

In the corner of the room, a legless, bloodless mass. His eyes have been picked out, the skin a greenish purple and the fingers painted. The fingers that were not cut, covered in paint.

_Intouchable._

The floor is gorged. It vomits blood, wine and paint. It sucks the feet in a colourless ocean, too much red drained the life, the dawn coming through the shutters.

_Si haut, Apollon._

Pain is alive. It flew through the holes in their bodies, the dead young men. Pain, it paints hearts red with love.

_Permets-tu?_

Love, it painted their hearts. They loved to death. Him who died hating himself. Him who died dreaming.

_Permets-tu?_

The painting must be taken away. The destroyed ones, burn them. The last one, shall see the light. Taken out of the tiny, sordid room with too many corridors. People will marvel, call it names.

The leader in red.

Apollo.

The God of Love.

The God of War.

Youth.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!!! 
> 
> If you want the translation for the French: 
> 
> Trop beau: Too beautiful.  
> Jamais assez, Jamais là, incapable: Never enough, never there, incompetent.  
> Intouchable: Untouchable.  
> Si haut, Apollon: You're so high, Apollo?  
> Permets-tu?: Do you permit it?


End file.
